Choices
by Rainmaker221
Summary: In a stalemate nobody wins, but nobody looses either. The Brotherhood of Steel's arrival in the Commonwealth broke the stalemate. Now Allen has to decide who he wants to throw his lot in with. Who he thinks deserves to win, who he wants to stand with, win or lose. For good or for ill The war for the soul of the Commonwealth starts soon. Part 2 of the "Long life Lived series
1. Chapter 1

Allen and his Commanding Officer were currently ordering coffee.

"Medium dark roast with room for cream and sugar, please." Marion ordered.

"Large, French Vanilla, please." Allen requested. The barista gave the two men their total, and Marion charged it to his card. The pair waited for their drinks, left the coffee shop, started wandering the streets of Boston, and started chatting.

"Tired?" Marion asked. It was, no doubt, a sly comment on the size of the order

"I had trouble sleeping," Allen mumbled, sipping at his drink.

"Why's that?" Marion asked, cheekily.

"Those files weren't exactly 'light reading', Sir."

"Truly? I find the formal language to be quite exhausting."

"Cut the shit, Sir." Allen requested.

"Okay, let's be frank," Marion said, sobering up, "What did you think?"

"I like the name," Allen commented, "'Icarus Contingency,' it's fitting"

"Glad you approve."

"Have you thought about it more than just the 'flying close to the sun' relation?"

"What do you mean?" Marion asked, taking a rather large sip from his coffee.

"In many Greek tragedies, the mortals were punished for their hubris, believing themselves to be above the rules of the gods."

"I'm familiar with hubris, Agent Marks."

"Truly sir? Because this plan of yours is nothing short of it."

"It is neither my plan, nor my hope. It is a contingency centered around the worst case scenario."

"What gives us the right to decide this?" Allen demanded.

"The same thing that gives us the right to win the war against Russia or China, nothing save the moral code we hold close." Marion lectured. Allen sighed and threw his empty cup of coffee away.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Aside from us? Four people: two active agents, one retired, and another one retired with alzheimer's." Marion mused.

"Why tell me?" Allen asked.

"Because I can trust you."

"You trust all of the agents, there has to be more to it than that." Allen pointed out. Marion rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed and started talking.

"The Icarus Contingency's greatest weapon is its secrecy. If America were to fall, it must be by it's own hand. It's people must rebel, because no nation can win against us. You've seen how we react to even the slightest hints of threats. The Lusitania wasn't even an American ship and Pearl Harbor was barely a pinprick compared to what we proved we could do." Marion got pensive, "If anyone finds out about this, if the government, the media, or even the people find out about Icarus, than that revolution may never come. After all, how do they know they aren't being manipulated?"

"You have very little faith in people." Allen observed. The pair stopping at a crosswalk.

"I trust people, that's the problem."

"Trust?"

"People trust people, so when someone they trust tells them something, they believe it - even if it's wrong. That snowballs, escalates, and pretty soon you have six million dead Jews." Marion explained.

"I think there's a little more to it than that," Allen argued.

"A little," Marion granted. "But this is logistics, what I need to know, Allen, is whether or not I can count on you."

"To do what? Bring about the fall of my government? My home? Everything I've been fighting for all this time. To make it all," Allen spread his arms out, "To make Kiev, Moscow, and Prague mean nothing?"

"We're not doing it, Agent Marks," Marion soothed

"Than why tell me? I can't be that special, I can't be the absolute best you have, there's an entire division fighting against China that I've never even seen."

"You're wrong, Agent Marks, you think any agent would have done what you've done? Would have go through with Kiev, Moscow, and Prague?"

"I'm not proud of those days, Sir." Allen mumbled, looking down.

"But you did it!" Marion exclaimed, "You did what needed to be done!" Marion sobered up a little, "But you're right, there's more to it."

"What is it, Sir?"

"I'm getting old, Agent Marks, only a few good years left, I need someone in the new generation to keep 'Icarus' alive," Marion explained

"Sir, I'm engaged to be married, the ceremony is in two weeks. My child is due in late winter," Allen recited the list as if he'd practiced.

"So?"

"So...I plan on retiring soon."

"As we've discussed." Marion recalled

"I won't be a part of the CIA to keep Icarus alive."

"You never completely leave, Agent Marks, you'll always have contacts, training, and knowledge. You'll have the knowledge of Icarus, the chance to pass it on, and the chance to start it. Now Allen, I have one last question."

"What is it, Sir?"

"Can I trust you? or will I have to kill you?" Marion asked, seriously. Allen sighed, clasped his hands together, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I obeyed orders at Moscow, I believed at Prague, and I trusted you at Kiev," Allen said quietly, "I'm not walking away now." Allen relented.

"Good." Marion said with a nod. "On an unrelated note, why wasn't I invited to your wedding?"

"You don't exist, sir." Allen reminded the man.

"Only officially, Agent Marks." Marion chuckled, "Only officially"


	2. Playing Along

Allen Marks was singing, and Piper and Nick had mixed feeling about it.

"Row me bully boys/ were in a hurry boys/ we've got a long way to go." Honestly he didn't have that bad of a voice "And we'll sing and we'll dance/ and bid farewell to France," It was really just that his timing could be better. "And It's row me bully boys row" Allen finished drawing out the last few notes.

From his co-pilot's seat in the vertibird cockpit, Paladin Danse turned and called back, "Why are you singing?"

"Force of habit," Allen answered with a shout, "My troop from the war would sing these shanties all the time."

"Welcome back to a cause that matters," Danse congratulated.

"It's feels like home!" Allen responded, the grin evident in his voice. Piper and Nick exchanged nervous glances.

It had been a month since the "Shroud Incident," and in that time Allen had been very busy.

He had spent a great deal of time with the Minutemen, their resurgence was making waves in the Commonwealth, and right at the center had been "General Allen Marks." Even Nick had been impressed. Then, the Brotherhood had arrived.

Piper, Nick, and Preston had all been with Allen when they saw the airship arrive over the horizon. Nobody knew exactly what Allen was going to do next, but they certainly hadn't thought he'd send Preston away and make a mad dash for a Brotherhood outpost. Neither Piper nor Nick had known what Allen would do next. As it turned out, that next step had been to greet the paladin in charge by name and accept an invitation up to the Prydwen.

All things considered, it didn't look good.

"We're docking now," Danse reported shortly thereafter, "Hold onto something"

Not good at all.

* * *

"Beneath the Commonwealth, there is a cancer, a malignant growth known as the Institute," Arthur Maxon proclaimed, "It needs to be cut before it can spread to the surface."

Nick wasn't impressed; Maxon was twenty two, maybe three if he was being generous.

"The Institute has created a weapon that transcends the power of the atom bomb. They call it a 'synth,'" Maxon almost retched the word. "An abomination of technology that masquerades as human and pretends to be capable of free will."

Nick kept looking to Piper, just to make sure that this was actually happening. Nick definitely wasn't impressed, but he was scared. He saw how excited the room was getting, how much those present agreed with Maxon. Even Allen, someone he thought he could trust, was getting fired up.

"I am not prepared to let this line of experimentation continue. Therefore, the Institute and their synths, should be dealt with swiftly and harshly – The Brotherhood way. Ad Victorium!" Maxson called.

The room responded, "Ad Victorium!"

Allen was quick to approach Maxon.

"I care about them you know," Maxon assured, softer now, turning to gaze out the window of the command deck, "The people of the Commonwealth."

"I understand that." Allen answered, taking his place by Maxon's side.

"They're playing with fire. They can't be left to their own devices."

"I know."

Maxon declared, "I refuse to allow the mistakes of the past to be repeated."

Allen frowned, bemused. "Out of curiosity, how do you know the Institute is repeating the mistakes of the past?"

"Progress for the sake of progress is abhorrent. The Institute has no goal, no truth, no care in the world save the conversation of their own interests."

Allen nodded thoughtfully.

"What are your orders?" Allen asked, "Sir."

"Get acclimated, when you've caught your baring, meet me at the vertibird deck."

"Yes sir."

* * *

"Don't tell me you're buying his bullshit," Nick begged. They had a minute now, still not much time, while Danse was getting his power armor tuned and nobody of note was within earshot.

"Now's not the time, Nick." Allen whispered back.

"Dammit, Blue," Piper hissed, "You're scaring us. This doesn't seem like you."

"We can talk after the job's done."

"Yeah, well what if the job involves a bullet in my head?" Nick demanded "I'm an 'abomination,' remember?"

"I wouldn't let that happen, Nick" Allen assured.

Nick wasn't having it. He scowled, his words sharp. "Why should I believe you?"

Too soon, Danse arrived before Allen could answer the detective. Unhappily, Nick looked away.

"Maxon has summoned us," the Paladin said curtly "Follow me."

* * *

"Take a look over there," Maxon ordered, handing Allen a pair of binoculars. Allen stood up a little straighter, his movements a little more robotic, his eyes a little less emotive.

"Fort Strong," Agent Marks observed, "It was a stronghold before the war, specialized in radioactive weapons."

"Heard of it?" Maxon asked.

"Been there," Agent Marks replied with a shrug, "Not a fan. Mini nukes are too brutish and gamma weapons aren't exactly reliable."

"Regardless, Super mutants have set up there," Maxon said. "The thought of such abominations so close to the Prydwen makes me sick. And while we're on the subject, how should I feel about the abomination following you around?"

"If he steps out of line, I'll shoot him." Agent Marks answered, before changing the subject, ignoring Nick's ensuing 'don't talk about me like I'm not here.'

Returning to the matter at hand, Agent Marks offered, "You want me to clear the fort out?"

"Yes."

"What's my budget?"

"What do you need?" Maxon asked.

"Ideally, realistically, or stringently?"

"All three."

"Is this a test?"

"Yes."

Agent Marks thought it over.

"Ideally, I'd need three teams, two in two vertibirds and a ground assault team. I spy a behemoth down there. The vertibirds would keep the ground team clear of the little ones, while the other team approached the behemoth with Nuke Launchers. After we clear the outside, the fort is as simple as remaining cautious and aiming for the Muties with nukes first."

"Stringently?"

"Send me in alone and alert my next of kin."

"You think you could solo the entire fort?" Maxon asked, expertly masking his disbelief.

"It'd be a very long day." Agent Marks shrugged.

"I can give you the two vertibirds, but no ground team, we can't spare that many."

"We might lose a vertibird," Agent Marks warned.

"I trust you."

"Once more into the fray," Agent Marks recited with a sigh.

* * *

"So, where's this goddamn line you hold so dear?" Nick sneered.

Nick wasn't overly fond of vertibirds, but just this once he'd thank god that they were in one. It gave him a chance to talk with Allen.

"Seriously, Blue, what's gotten into you?" Piper demanded. They were safe to talk with Danse in the second Vertibird.

"Guys," Allen assured them, "I just told Maxon what he wanted to hear."

Neither of the pair seemed convinced. "Why the Brotherhood, though? Weren't the Minutemen enough?"

"To take down the Institute?" Allen asked incredulously. "A bunch of volunteers with laser muskets aren't going to take down something like the Institute."

"So you're willing to make a deal with a demon to kill the devil?" Nick asked, disbelieving.

"The Brotherhood is worth investigating," Allen defended his earlier point.

"I've done all the investigating I'd care to," Piper declared, "I say we jump ship after Fort Strong."

"We'll regroup with Preston after Strong, I promise." Allen told them.

"I'm going to hold you to that." Nick warned.

* * *

"Look at this place," Danse exclaimed, clearly impressed, as he should have been. One fort cleared, zero Brotherhood casualties. "You must hate these mutants as much as I do."

"More," Agent Marks answered. "This was my pleasure."

"Killing takes its toll." Nick finally piped up, unable to hold it back, "I get doing what must be done, but this sounds like genocide."

"If I ever wanted the opinion of an abomination, I'd want my Brothers to kill me before asking for it," Danse snapped with gritted teeth.

"Drop it, both of you." Agent Marks ordered.

"You're taking his side?" Both Nick and Danse asked simultaneously.

"Danse, Nick has earned his place among us." Marks explained. "Nick, with all the lives the super mutants have taken, it's justifiable to be a little excited about thinning the herd."

The two only grumbled.

"Danse," Agent Marks started.

"Yes, Knight?"

"Could you make the report for me, I have a few obligations to take care of."

"Of course, depending on what those obligations are," Danse managed to make a demand without posing the question itself.

"A few jobs, a few friends, a lead or two on my son." Allen explained. Both Piper and Nick were surprised that Danse didn't need further clarification.

"Of course, soldier, and good luck," the paladin said before offering, "Would you like a vertibird escort?"

"No thanks," Allen said, shaking his head, "The walk will be good for me."

"Ad Victorium, Knight.

"Ad Victorium."

* * *

"So where are we going, Knight?" Nick asked, sneering at the title.

"The Castle" Allen replied.

"Why? So you can 'take care' of it the Brotherhood way?" Nick said, reaching into his coat to hide his twitching hands.

"No," Allen growled, turning back to face the Prydwen. "I'm going to talk to Preston and figure out the best way to burn the entire goddamn Brotherhood to the ground!" It was a shout, shocking both Piper and Nick.

"I told you to have more faith in him," Piper scolded Nick.

"No, you didn't" Nick argued.

"It's true," Allen joked, "You didn't"

"Well, I thought it." Piper muttered with a frown.

Allen, however, was moving on.

"Thinking is for tacticians and telepaths," he said over his shoulder, "We've got work to do."


	3. The Next Step

There was a table in the middle of the room with a map of the Commonwealth on it. Around the table was Allen Marks, Preston Garvey, three Minutemen Lieutenants, and one guest who had yet to introduce herself.

"First things first." Allen Marks began, "Introductions, you all know who I am."

"Sam Smith, I know it sounds like a fake name but fuck you, I command the Northeast garrison." The first lieutenant said, sitting down and putting his feet up on the war table.

"Nancy Hart, I command the southwest Garrison, Sir" Nancy was standing at attention. If Allen didn't know better, he would swear she had military training.

"Richard Montgomery, Central Garrison." Richard was older than Nancy or Sam, but not as old as Ronnie Shaw (who had opted out of this meeting, saying "I shoot, someone else tells me when").

"Preston Garvey, y'all know who I am."

"I should fucking well hope so," Sam joked, "I followed you here."

"You're speaking to a superior officer," Nancy scolded.

"So that just leaves the question," Allen interrupted. "Who," Allen pointed at the guest, "are you?"

"Lauren Mcnamara. I'm a Regulator from the Capital Wasteland." Lauren was garbed in an old brown duster. She had blonde hair, green eyes, and an AK-47 strapped to her back.

"You're a what from where?" Allen asked

"Lawman from D.C" Montgomery clarified.

"Preston? Why is she here?" Nancy requested.

"Cause everybody loves eye candy" Sam said, winking at the new girl.

"She made contact with me on a patrol," Preston answered, electing to ignore Sam. "She was sent here to investigate the Brotherhood."

"That was fast," Allen commented.

"I was tracking them more than I was investigating." Lauren explained. "When I explained why I was here to Mr. Garvey he offered to let me sit in on a Minuteman meeting discussing the Brotherhood.

"Can we trust you?" Nancy asked, "How do we know you're not a plant?"

"We can trust her, I've been to the Capital Wasteland," Montgomery said, deadpanned "I know the Regulators. I know she's one; she's trustworthy."

"General?" Nancy looked to Allen for guidance.

"She stays." Allen relented, "Now, backtracking a little bit, as to why I've gathered you all here today. We need to discuss the Minutemen's response to the Brotherhood presence."

"What is that going to be, General?" Preston Asked.

"I'm opening the table up for suggestions." Allen said, waving his hand at the war table. There was silence for a bit, nobody wanted to be the first to speak. Nancy was the first one to work up the courage.

"The Brotherhood poses a clear and imminent danger. I say this means war." she said solemnly.

"I don't know if that's the best idea," Montgomery deadpanned. "The Brotherhood has a massive technological advantage."

"We're not exactly helpless, we have a united Commonwealth and artillery."

"The Commonwealth is far from united." Sam piped up "My garrison still gets flack."

Nancy snapped, "A mostly united Commonwealth, you get my point."

"We've got a lot of enemies," Montgomery said, "Gunners, Raiders, Super Mutants. We might not be able to handle the Brotherhood, too."

"To be fair we'd have to kill all of those," Sam pointed out, "With the Brotherhood all we'd have to do is disrupt the chain of command enough." Everybody turned and stared at Sam, a little surprised. "There's a reason I'm in command, fuckos," Sam said indignantly.

"They did seem very dependent on their 'Elder Maxon,'" Allen mused.

"They're a military organization," Montgomery observed. "The chain of command goes from the top to the bottom, and a disorganized Brotherhood might be even more dangerous than an organized one."

"I don't like them," Preston chimed in, "They're not concerned with collateral damage, they hardly care about their own people. These aren't the kind of people we want in control."

"They might take some of the heat off us though," Sam commented.

"How so?" Nancy demanded.

"Dick here had a point," Sam recalled, ignoring Montgomery's grumbled, "It's Richard."

"We have a lot of enemies, but now, so does the Brotherhood. If we focus on the defensive, keeping our settlements safe rather than patrolling the Commonwealth, then the Brotherhood will find themselves going toe-to-toe with every nasty in the Commonwealth."

"But what about the travelers of the Commonwealth?" Preston asked, "They rely on our patrols for safe passage."

"We can't do everything," Montgomery replied, backing Sam, "People are going to die whether we go to war or not; this way we don't lose much of our own."

"If we let the Brotherhood go unchecked then they are going to become a bigger threat than we can handle." Nancy argued.

The debate continued for a couple of hours. Sam was fiercely against declaring war, Montgomery wanted to "proceed with caution", Preston just wanted to deal with the problem, Nancy wanted to declare open war, Lauren didn't say a word, and Allen was conflicted.

"We don't have to decide tonight," Allen said, attempting to bring the debate to a close. "Everyone, go rest up," Allen ordered. Before she could exit, he called to the visiting Regulator, "Lauren, may I talk to you?"

"Sure, why not?" Lauren said. They were the first words she'd said since her introduction.

* * *

Lauren and Allen were pacing the ramparts of the castle.

"So got a girlfriend?" Lauren asked.

"That's not why I brought you up here." Allen answered, sternly.

"How about Sam? Is he single?"

"Lauren!" Allen snapped.

Lauren laughed and teased, "I'm just trying to have some fun."

"That's not why either of us are here, and just to get it out of the way, I'm not interested."

"So why am I here?"

"Tell me about the Capital Wasteland." Allen demanded.

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about the Brotherhood presence where."

"I don't know much, I also don't know what caused the schism. But for a while the brotherhood was a lot like power armored Minutemen, they were waging their own little war against the Super Mutants in the ruins of downtown D.C."

"And the outskirts?"

"They didn't have the numbers to cover that wide of an area. Which is why the Regulators cropped up." Lauren explained.

"If I request aid will either organization send it?"

"No." Lauren said confidently.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Neither of us have the resources. There are maybe," Lauren stressed, "a hundred regulators, and the Brotherhood has only a fourth of what they started with. Leaving the Wasteland would be a bad idea."

"Why are you here then? If they don't plan on doing something?" Allen asked. He had to hop over a small gap in the ramparts.

"I'm here as a favor to a friend of mine."

"Who's this friend?"

"His name is Liam Wilson, he's a local legend, he a Brotherhood Knight and a Regulator, among other things."

"Why did he send you?"

"He couldn't afford to leave, but he wants to know if he should follow Maxon's faction north to 'take care' of them." Lauren explained.

"Can he do that?" Allen asked, willing to entertain the idea.

"He has a habit of doing the impossible."

"I get the feeling that's an understatement."

"It is. On a related note," Lauren continued, "What should I tell him?" Allen stood pensively, staring out over the sea.

"Tell him we'll take care of it." Allen finally said.

"Will do." Lauren said, clapping her hands together, "Now, where's Sam's room?"

"Barracks are that way," Allen said and pointed.

"I'll leave tomorrow around dawn," Lauren said, walking away.

* * *

The next morning, a little after dawn, the general and his lieutenants gathered in the war room.

"I've made my decision." Allen announced. "I understand that we all had our hopes for this, but I will not waver on this. If you don't like it, then I'm sorry."

"We're behind you general." Nancy reassured.

"Not me," Sam joked, "I prefer the view from behind Nancy."

"I will slap the perv out of you, Sam, I swear to the wall."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you'd do what's best." Montgomery commented, cutting off the brewing argument.

"For the most part, we're going to continue normal operations." Allen ordered, "The Brotherhood still thinks of me as an ally. As long as we have that, then the opportunity for co-operation exists. I'm not going to burn any bridges."

"I still feel like we should do something." Montgomery commented.

"That's why I said 'for the most part'" Allen reminded "I want you all to work on fortifying Minutemen settlements, recruit the willing, and I want artillery at every damn settlement. If the Brotherhood starts threatening the safety of the people, then I want a very quick, very decisive war."

The lieutenants' response was a positive one all around.

"Bitchin'," Sam exclaimed

"Yes, General." Nancy proclaimed, saluting.

"It will be done." Montgomery said with a nod.

"Preston." Allen turned to the man.

"Yes, General?"

"Go get Piper and Nick. We need to talk." Allen rubbed the back of his neck, "Everyone else, you have your orders."

"Yes, General," came the resounding response.

* * *

"Miss us?" Nick asked as he walked into the war room with his usual swagger.

Piper, on the other hand, was pouting. "Nice of you to finally include us."

"Tactics and maps, boring stuff, really." Allen justified.

Trying to stay on topic, Preston asked, "What did you need us for?"

"It's time to talk about the Deathclaw in the room - the Institute."

"I was waiting for you to bring them up," the Minuteman said.

"The Minutemen are getting stronger, but we're not strong enough to take down both the Brotherhood and the Institute in open warfare."

"So what do we do?" Preston asked.

"Worst Case scenario, I use the Brotherhood to take down the Institute and hope they didn't get too strong to threaten the Minutemen."

"That's a lot riding on a hope." Nick pointed out.

"Like I said, worst case." Allen said. He started to pace around the table, his hands clasped behind him. "But, whatever's going to happen next, I'm going to need a lead on the Institute."

Piper heaved a heavy sigh. "I know where this is going."

"I'm going to the Glowing Sea," Allen declared, "It's time that I find Virgil."

"Are you sure?" Preston asked, "Things are heating up here, and that's not a short journey you plan on taking."

"I'm sure, and I'm also sure about this – I'm going alone."

They did not respond well to that.

"Like hell!"

"General, you can't…"

"Blue, we've talked about this."

"Shut up!" Allen shouted putting his hands up. "I need to move fast and quiet. No offense, but the three of you are all either loud or slow."

"Some taken." Nick snapped, lighting up a cigarette.

"Blue," Piper begged, "You're not invincible, and the Glowing Sea is dangerous."

"I need to move fast, Piper."

"Is that risk really worth a day, maybe, off of your commute?"

"Come on, General, you're smarter than this." Preston weighed in.

"It's been a month, guys, a month!" Allen stressed, "Do you know how much it's been fucking killing me? Sitting on this lead and still not knowing where the hell my son is? Doing nothing? Focusing on everything except the one thing that matters most to me? I've waited long enough," Allen declared. "And now, I have a reason other than Shaun. I'm going, I'm going today, and I'm going alone. If you don't like it, feel free to try to keep up."

The room went quiet at that. Nobody, not even Piper, was going to argue with him now.

"I ever tell you that you're the reason I drink, General?"

"Once."

"At least promise me you'll be careful." Piper requested.

"I'm always careful." Allen said, indignantly. Nick only coughed a quick and not terribly discreet, "Kellogg."

"I'm not always doing the smart thing, but I do stupid things carefully."

"I don't think that's how that works." Nick replied, sounding dubious.

"Tough," Allen said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, before anyone can convince me not to, see ya!" And with that, he was out the door before anyone could say "bye" back to him.

"He's the reason I drink, you know." Preston commented staring at the closed door.

"That's three" Nick counted.


	4. Hard truths

Agent Marks was running straight towards the glowing sea. He was losing himself in the activity. His eyes were unfocused; he couldn't hear his footsteps or the occasional crackle of his Geiger counter, he couldn't smell the dirt, or feel the rain. He hadn't been in this wasteland long, but he had been there long enough that it seeped into his veins. It was a part of him now. So he ran, knowing exactly where he was going but not knowing where he was.

For the first time since he woke from stasis, he wasn't thinking of Nora or Shaun, he wasn't thinking of everything he lost, he was simply running. Until he stopped, rested, slept, and dreamt.

* * *

Allen "woke" and instantly knew he was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he "woke" up comfortable. Even when he and Nora got their own place, with a memory foam mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets, he never woke up comfortable.

There was also the fact that Nora was in his arms, the little spoon – a dead giveaway.

Allen shut his eyes the second he saw Nora's red hair. If this was a dream, then he wanted to wait a little longer until he actually had to do something in it.

"I know you're awake," he heard Nora say.

"Of course you do," Allen replied, eyes still clenched shut. "You're just a dream."

"If all you want to do in a dream with me is cuddle, then I failed as a wife," she joked. Allen felt Nora shuffle around in his arms.

"You know me Nora," Allen started.

"You think with the head on your shoulders," Nora finished.

Allen finally opened his eyes, and was greeted to Nora's smiling face.

"Hey there," Allen mumbled, pressing his forehead to Nora's.

"Hey you."

"It's so good to see you again."

"I'm glad. But, soldier boy," Allen gave a half grin at Nora's old pet name for him, "We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Allen refuted, pressing Nora into his chest.

"Come on, Allen. You've never been one to run from the truth."

"Can't we do the 'other than cuddle' things you were referring to?"

"This is your dream Allen, you want to talk about it." Nora said, pulling away.

"I'd like to wake up then."

"Allen."

"Fine. What are we going to talk about?"

All too suddenly, Allen was overcome with a sense of vertigo. He was no longer lying down, his wife in his arms. Instead, he was standing on a roof above the burning streets of Prague with a silenced MP5 in his hands.

"What was it I said to you here?" A figure before Allen asked. Allen would have answered. But before he could, the words seemingly came from all around, more from nowhere than anywhere.

"This is it, Nathan, this is the future! Mankind escalates, every time we think there's been a war to end all wars a worse one comes! Soon the only thing left to escalate to will be the nukes!" The figure turned around, needlessly. Allen already knew who it was. Agent Lynch.

Allen's cell of the CIA consisted of sixteen active agents, four analysts, two com officers, and two commanding officers. One recruiter, and one who ran the OPS. Lynch was the recruiter, and a traitor.

"If you had known I was right, I wonder if you still would have killed me," Lynch wondered aloud.

"Definitely." Allen answered as he raised his gun and sighted Lynch.

"Put that gun down, Nathan." Lynch's order was casual.

"My name's not Nathan." Allen said, defiantly.

"Really? It was the name you had when we met. It was the name you wanted to have when you were trying to retire. The name you were returning to."

"That life's over."

"That world is over!" Lynch shouted. "But here you are, still clinging to it, still clinging to stupid ideas like 'safety' and 'protection.'"

"Why are you here, Lynch?" Allen demanded, not willing to get sucked into Lynch's mind games.

"What was it that Marion told you? Oh so long ago?"

Marion's words and voice seemed to float into existence.

"The mind of an agent always knows what it takes to survive. The body will betray you. So listen to your mind and accept the hard truths necessary to survive."

"You're running from the hard truths, Nathan," Lynch lectured.

Allen snarled, "I'm running from nothing!"

"You don't believe that."

"I know what I believe," Allen proclaimed.

"Once," Lynch clarified, "In a different world with different rules, where you fulfilled a different role."

"It's the same world."

"Not any more, Nathan. What do you think is going to happen next?"

"I'm going to find Virgil…"

"After that?" Lynch shouted, "After Virgil, after the Institute, after you find your son and he accepts you as his father?"

Allen was silent.

"Because I don't know either, and I'm your goddamn subconscious! You don't honestly think you can just return to Sanctuary Hills and live the rest of your lives do, do you?"

"I can try!" Allen shouted angrily, bitterly.

"And you'll fail. Because you're right, Agent Marks, you're not Nathan, you can't get a job as a bartender like you planned. You can't start saving for little Shaun's college education."

Lynch threw his arms in the air as he spoke, just like he did all those years ago. Same movements, different speech. "You're a killer, Agent Marks, drifting from one cause to another. And with your anchor, you're nothing. Shaun is better off without you, maybe you should just put that MP5 in your mouth and pull the trigger."

Instead, Allen turned the gun on Lynch, and pulled that very trigger. But before Allen woke, Lynch was able to get a few last words in, the same words he said years ago when he was dying in Allen's arms.

"You were never one for speeches."

* * *

Allen woke up, dusted himself off, did a few stretches, and started running.

Soon, he was losing himself in the activity. His eyes were unfocused, he couldn't hear his footsteps or the occasional crackle of his Geiger counter, he still couldn't smell the dirt, or feel the rain.

Lynch had recruited him because he was efficient. Marion kept him because he was an idealist and would do anything for what he believed in. These days, Allen believed in Shaun, and for now, he needed to run.

Hard truths were overrated anyhow.


	5. Stand By

Piper had spent the last week waiting in Sanctuary Hills; Preston had described it as "The General's number one bolt hole."

If Allen was going to turn up anywhere it would be there. But after a week without so much as sign from Allen, Piper was getting restless. Luckily, Preston was there to keep her busy.

"Help me build this turret, Piper,' or 'you burnt dinner, Piper,' or 'let me help, Piper,' or even 'for the love of God stop taking notes when you should be on watch.'" Any given combination of the above filled her days. It drove her crazy. Luckily for her (and unluckily for someone else), a flare went off somewhere relatively nearby, and Preston insisted the two of them check it out.

"We don't have to rush," Preston explained, "It was a green flare."

"I don't know what that means."

"A couple of weeks ago the General got this nifty idea; different colored flares, red for emergencies, green for assistance required, and blue for update requested."

"So as long as we don't stop for drinks along the way?" Piper asked.

"That's about the gist of it."

"Do you know what settlement asked for help?"

"Either Oberland Station or Vault 81."

"Vault 81 is allied with the Minutemen?"

"They didn't turn down the flare gun," Preston answered with a shrug, "That's all I need."

"I have a question." Piper said suddenly.

"Personal or professional?" Preston asked.

"Personal."

"Ask away," Preston said with a wave of his hand.

"What's your opinion of Allen?"

"He's a good fighter, a better man, and I'd die for him in a heartbeat," Preston said simply.

Piper frowned. "There has to be more to it than that."

"Why?"

"Don't you worry about him? Doesn't it make you nervous how easily he lies, how quickly he leaves us behind? How he seems to always be biting off more than he can chew?"

"Piper, when I first met him, he killed over dozen raiders before I even saw him. He then decided against using power armor and killed a dozen more. He even outmaneuvered a death claw long enough to gut it. After seeing a sight like that you tend to stop worrying about someone's health and welfare." Preston explained. He spoke with simplicity; everything was simple to Preston, lives need saving, raiders need killing, Minutemen need rebuilding, Allen had a good heart and better aim. Piper was a little jealous of the simple world Preston lived in.

"Well, I saw him go days without sleeping, pop mentats like gum, and pass out from sheer exhaustion. After seeing that you tend not to stop worrying about someone's health." Piper was still an optimist, after all Diamond city threw at her, she still believed in people. It was just that after seeing all the bad that people set out to do, it made her a bit cynical.

"He's rebuilt the Minutemen from nothing, in one month he's done more than the founders did in ten."

"Is it that simple to you?" Piper asked, incredulously.

"Does it need to be complicated?" Preston asked, equally exasperated at the conversation.

Piper replied with a sigh, "I guess not."

The two continued onward, towards the source of the flare, now in silence.

* * *

As it turned out, it was Vault 81 that needed help. One of the children there had fallen ill and the only lead they had involved going into a previously unknown part of the vault. They had tried to go themselves but their security wasn't trained for that kind of thing; they had barely escaped alive.

Fortunately, Piper and Preston were a bit better at the whole "Killing Mole Rats" game. Unfortunately, things like computer-locked doors were a bit beyond the pair.

"Okay, so tell me," Preston said, looking through a desk. "What's your opinion of the General."

"He's a good man, but he keeps too many secrets." Piper answered, checking between couch cushions.

"He's a spy, it's probably second nature to him," Preston commented.

"Wait," Piper exclaimed, "You know he's a spy? When did he tell you?"

"Soon after we met, why?" Preston asked.

"It took at least two weeks for him to tell me and he tells you in two days."

"I'm a Minuteman, Piper, a soldier. He probably felt a sense of camaraderie." Preston comforted.

"He's my friend," Piper complained to no one, "I wish he'd stop pushing me away."

"Is that all he is to you?" Preston hinted.

"He's not a story if that's what you're implying," Piper snapped, wanting to stop that train before it left the station.

"It's not, but it also answers my question."

Piper decided she was getting real sick of people being cryptic. In her frustration, she shouted, "Where's that goddamn password!"

"Got the door unlocked," someone replied from behind.

It was a male voice, but Preston was right next to her.

"Blue? Is that you?" Piper called.

"Yup!" He shouted back. "I saw the flare on my way back, figured I'd make a pit-stop."

"Did you hear our conversation?" Preston asked, a little worried he was caught gossiping about his commanding officer.

"All I heard was yelling about a password."

Both Preston and Piper were relieved to hear it.

* * *

The trio and a new guest returned but had to wait to see if the cure would work on little Austin, the boy from the Vault. In the meantime, Allen was talking with the new arrival, a Miss Nanny model named Curie.

"The world's changed, Curie" Allen lectured "Things like 'healthcare, the scientific community,' or even the goddamn 'scientific method' are either gone entirely or warped beyond recognition, I don't know if what you're looking for can be found."

"I understand that, Monsieur, but I am determined to pursue it anyway," the robot warbled.

"Well then, welcome aboard." Allen said as he held out his hand. Piper was going to say something but Curie seemed to understand well enough, putting one of her pincers in his hand, and shaking.

"What's our next step, General."

"First we need to find, Nick. He has the same right to hear this as anyone."

"Hear what?" Curie asked.

"Our next objective, and it might just get all of us killed."

"What else is new?" Piper said, flippantly, as much as she like Allen and Preston she was sick of being left out of their plans.


	6. One By Land

his student, learning everything she could of this new world. Preston was looking to help; Allen hadn't ironed out the details of his plan yet and Preston wanted to be of some assistance. Piper was just looking for some answers, as whatever Allen was planning, he was keeping his cards close to his chest. Nick had Allen's name on his desk again, he had been sent a written request to come to Sanctuary. Allen's actions with the Minutemen had alleviated some of his concerns, but a bad feeling was tough to kill.

It wasn't until Nick found time to visit Sanctuary Hills (after a goddamn week) that Allen finally started to explain himself. He had gathered his closest friends to discuss their next move.

"Virgil told me how they get synths in and out of the Commonwealth." Allen said, leaning casually against the counter in his house.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Nick said as he lit up a cigarette (he smoked for reasons no one had successfully been able to explain to Allen).

"They use teleportation," Allen replied simply, as if he wasn't describing the greatest technological advancement in recent history.

"Impossible!" Curie exclaimed, "Teleportation is impossible."

"Virgil described it as a 'molecular relay,' everything he said after that was beyond me."

"So have Sturges whip up a teleporter," Preston suggested, "If anyone can do it, he can."

"I have no doubt that he can," Allen said, standing up a little straighter, "But it's not that simple."

"Why not?" Nick asked.

"Setting aside the sheer resources we'd be diverting from other Minutemen responsibilities, we'd need a courser chip and someone to decode it, just to be able to get on the right frequency."

"Excusez-moi, what is a 'courser'?" Curie asked.

"Elite Synths," Allen answered, crossing his arms, "Stronger, smarter, and better trained than the earlier models."

"Have you seen one before?"

"Only in a recording."

"Do we know how to find one?" Preston asked.

"Sort of, Virgil gave me a frequency that would alert me if I'm near a courser. But there's a catch."

"There always is." Nick grumbled.

"After teleportation, the Chip's signal fades until needed again, that way people can't do exactly what we're trying to. I've got a small window of opportunity to latch onto the signal and track it."

"So what's the plan?" Nick asked disdainfully. "It's not like we can just wander the wasteland clapping our hands saying 'here courser, here boy.'"

"Not that it wouldn't be fun," Preston joked.

"I need to start making my presence a threat to the Institute, if we're lucky they'll send a Courser after me and that'll solve most of our problems."

"Most?" Curie inquired.

"I still need to decode the damn thing. No one in the Minutemen can do it and I'm not handing that kind of technology over to the Brotherhood." Allen explained, slouching again.

"Are there any other people in the Commonwealth with an affinity for technology?" Curie asked, sounding dejected, likely understanding such knowledge was so rare.

"Only one that I trust," Allen practically leapt away from the counter. "I need to speak with Dr. Amari."

"I'm coming with you." Nick declared, "I won't have you interrogating my friend."

"She'd have to pull a gun on me before I'd so much as hit her," Allen assured.

"I would like to come, as well." Curie requested.

"I'm in too, general." Preston said.

"Actually, Preston, I need you do something else," Allen told the man.

"Yes, general," Preston replied, standing suddenly at attention.

"Gather the lieutenants. If my hunch is right, then I'll be absent from my post for a while. I'll need to make arrangements before disappearing."

"You're hunch, sir?"

"Just an idea, not worth talking about until I get more intel."

"Understood, Sir." Preston said, relaxing.

"Alright, everyone go, rest up, relax. We move out tomorrow."

Everybody was leaving but were temporarily interrupted when Allen called out. "Hey, Piper, can we talk?"

"What do you need?" Piper demanded, curtly. Allen was taken aback by her rudeness.

"You haven't said a word all day, is something the matter?" Allen asked.

"You know full well what's the matter!" Piper snapped. "You run off all gung ho, you don't ask for help, you don't make sure we're on board. You just tell us what you're doing and expect us to follow along."

"Do you not approve of my choices?" Allen asked calmly, backing up to the corner of the kitchen and crossing his arms.

"That's part of the problem, for the most part you've been on your best behavior. It's just…." Piper trailed off in frustration.

"You don't like having choices made for you, even if it's something you would have picked in the first place." Allen finished.

"Exactly!" Piper cried out, exasperated. "I'm sick of you and Preston telling me what's best, I know what I'm doing. I'm not some cushy damsel in distress who needs protecting. I've gotten into plenty of scraps on my own."

"I'm sure," Allen said candidly.

"Don't patronize me, Blue. I've been shot, poisoned, nearly executed by the cult of Atom. It's about time that you started listening to me." As she finished, Piper finally calmed down. Allen nodded thoughtfully, still in his little corner.

"I'm sorry," Allen started. "You're right, I haven't been listening, and you're not some damsel in distress who needs protection."

"I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop," Piper said.

"I can't speak for Preston, but to me all of you are civilians, even him. For a lot of my life, civilians were either meant to be saved or mourned. I'm having trouble getting used to the idea that in this world, civilians take on a different meaning."

"I don't know what that means."

"Neither do I, but it sounded poignant." Allen shrugged. "It's something that I'm working on, Piper."

"I wish you'd stop pushing your friends away, Blue." Piper said. She was trying to get Allen to open up, but instead Allen just shook his head.

"I'd like it if you'd head out with us tomorrow," Allen phrased it as a suggestion "I feel like it's been awhile since you've been back home; we can drop you off at Diamond city so you can check in with Nat."

Only slightly annoyed that she was being led to water, but not forced to drink, Piper agreed.

* * *

Nick was watching Allen carefully. He trusted him enough to let him talk to Amari, but if his tone turned accusing, he knew who he'd be siding with.

"Dr. Amari, may I speak to you?" Allen requested.

"Of course," Amari responded warily. "What is this regarding?"

"A question." Allen said, dramatically.

"What would you like to know?"

"What I'd like to know is, why Goodneighbor?"

"I don't…" Amari started before being interrupted.

"If this was about money you'd be in Diamond city. Dr. Sun would be out of business in a week. If this was about saving lives, you'd be out wandering the wastes, treating those that can't afford Doc Weathers." Allen reasoned, starting to pace "So what's here, in Goodneighbor, that's nowhere else? And then it occurred to me 'safety.'"

"Safety?" Amari said, attempting to sound confused. "There's no safety to be found in Goodneighbor." it was an unconvincing lie.

"There's safety alright, safety from the one enemy that guns, walls, and vigilance can't protect you from. Safety from the one thing that nobody in Goodneighbor fears," Allen said as he started to walk towards Amari, while making it very clear he meant no harm. "But why would you need safety from them? What makes you think you are in that much danger? Either you're paranoid, or…" Allen trailed off letting the other options go unspoken.

"Or I've done something that makes me a target," Amari finished.

"Exactly, so who would the Institute target? You've been here too long for it to be Minutemen or Brotherhood."

Amari opened her mouth, more than likely to answer.

"Don't say it." Allen suddenly ordered.

"Why?" Amari asked, confused.

"I'm not asking for you to vouch for me, I'm not asking you help me meet the leadership."

"What then?" Amari asked, getting nervous.

"I want the rumor," Allen demanded, "The rumor that everyone gets, that everyone hears about but no one ever takes seriously. How to find them, how do I get them to find me?"

Amari paused and nodded, she could give him that. The rumor had been started on purpose, for people like Allen, who cared a lot, who couldn't wait to be contacted.

"Follow the Freedom Trail."


	7. Two By Sea

Allen was unreasonably irritated. Nick and Curie both had valid reasons for coming with him, and they weren't exactly useless companions, but Allen wanted to run. He knew the Freedom trail like the back of his hand and every second he spent slowing down to answer Curie's questions or because Nick didn't have the same kind of training he did was a test of his patience. So, Allen did what he always did when his patience was tried, he started to mumble and hum. It was an old trick his dad had taught him. Singing under your breathe is easier than yelling at things you have little control over. Needless to say, he sang under his breath.

"One by land/two by sea/right here in front of me."

"Monsieur? Are you humming?" Curie asked.

"Yup," Allen answered, helping Nick over a large pile of rubble.

"How can you be humming," Nick demanded with a groan, "Aren't you out of breath?"

"Nope."

"What are you humming?" Curie asked again.

"An old song a buddy of mine liked. The guy listened to all sorts of anti-government stuff. The irony is that he was as dedicated of an agent as I was, maybe even more so."

"I do not understand, monsieur." Curie stated. Not for the first time, Allen wished Curie had a face for him to read; without one, Allen didn't know if Curie was confused or ignorant of the situation. "How can one both love and hate something?"

"In my experience, the people that are presented as 'unpatriotic' or 'traitors' often love their country more than most. They just love it to the point that they call it to a higher standard."

"How 'bout you, Allen?" Nick asked. "Were you a mindless drone, or whatever you just described?"

Allen paused for a second.

"Give me a minute." Allen requested.

"Too difficult for you?" Nick teased light heartedly.

"No, there are Raiders, ten o'clock." Allen said, sighting his rifle

Curie chirped, "But it is twelve thirty -"

"Dammit, Curie, get to cover!" Allen barked.

Allen knew that not everyone could be an ace operative like him, but when Curie hovered confused for a full thirty goddamn seconds and Nick used a revolver made out of piping, he started wishing Green Beret training was a grade school requirement. Luckily, Raiders were no Spetsnaz, and Allen had dispatched them in a few minutes.

"To answer your earlier question," Allen said as he turned over a Raider, patting down their pockets for ammo. "I was neither."

"How so?" Nick asked, doing the same with another Raider.

"The way I saw it, society was smart enough to heal itself if given the chance. The only problem is that the war was getting in the way of that."

Nick prodded further, "So, your thought process was…"

"Win the war, society heals. Don't get me wrong, I loved America and truly did think it deserved to win the war. But as far as individual things like 'medicare' or ' two party systems' or hell, even small things like charter schools were better left to people smarter than I."

"That seems to be a very limited point of view," Curie observed. "We must attempt to learn all we can."

"Well, seeing how the world took a nuke bath, I'm inclined to agree with you."

"That was fast," Nick said.

"Somebody fucked up, until I find out who, I'm assuming it was everyone." Allen stood up straight, stretched, and dusted off his pant legs.

Nick nodded, and Curie processed that neither of them knew how to respond.

"Let's move out, then." Allen said.

* * *

"Stop right there," the woman on the left with a minigun ordered.

Allen wished he could say this was the first time he'd been threatened by a woman with a minigun, but he couldn't. He even had a protocol for this type of situation.

"You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting," the leader, also a woman, observed, "But before we go any further I need you to answer my questions. To start, who the hell are you?"

"My name is Allen Marks."

As it was, the first part of that protocol was to do what was ordered as long as it doesn't offend his sensibilities. "These are my friends, Nick Valentine and Curie."

"Why are you here?"

"I heard that the Freedom Trail lead to the Railroad. I followed it and here I am."

"Why are you seeking the Railroad?"

Allen was going to lie, say something about 'helping synths' - a great byproduct regardless, especially since saying 'I want to hunt a Courser to Infiltrate the institute to find my son' was a telling a bit more than he wanted them to know.

Luckily, they were interrupted by a man, older and weirder than Allen, with a peculiar sense of humor to boot.

"So we're having a party," he said, adjusting his sunglasses, "If I had been given an invitation, I'd have brought cake."

"I prefer pie to be honest." Allen quipped. Part two of the protocol, defuse the situation; humor was good for that.

"Shut up, both of you." The leader ordered, "Deacon, I need intel, who is this man?"

"Wow, really, Des?" Deacon, as he was apparently called, exclaimed, "This guy is kind of a big deal, I've told you about him remember?"

"Remind me." Des snapped.

"Well," Deacon said counting off his fingers, "In no particular order, he's the general of the Minutemen, the Silver Shroud – love that one by the way, big fan"

"Thank you."

"A Knight of the Brotherhood," Deacon continued "and the guy whose praises we were singing a month ago for killing Kellogg."

"Quite the resume," Des deadpanned, Allen had to give her props on the poker face "I take it you're vouching for him."

"Yes, definitely."

"Well, then he's your responsibility." Des turned to leave, "Glory, stay here until Deacon gives the all clear."

"Got it." Des left and Glory (apparently) set down her minigun, all while Deacon walked up to Allen.

"Hope you don't mind the reception. When you tangle with the Institute, it pays to be careful."

"You all were just being cautious." Allen forgave with a wave of his hand.

"We all know we're on the same team." Nick quipped. The detective was starting to like this Railroad, but he wanted Allen to know that he was present and accounted for, and wouldn't be led around like a pet.

"Nice to meet you, Nick" Deacon sidetracked. He was back on topic soon after. "Still, probably wasn't the friendliest welcome."

"To be honest, Deacon, the only friendlier welcome I've ever had was from an organization I met in Amsterdam in 2071," Allen reassured the man.

"Well, it's all good now, I vouched for you and now you're in."

"It's not that simple though, right?" Allen guessed.

"There is a job that I'm planning on using as your application. You in?" Deacon offered his hand for a shake.

"What the hell," Allen shrugged and shook Deacon's hand, happy to play off the man's excitement. "I've got nothing better to do."

"Great! It's as suicide mission for most people. I hope that's not too much of a deterrent, but it's the only way I can get you doing the big jobs quickly."

"Deacon, we probably have very different definitions of 'suicide mission.'"

"Awesome, see there's this old freeway outside Lexington…."

This was going to be fun

* * *

As of this moment, Nick and Allen saw two different things when they looked at Deacon. Nick saw someone frighteningly similar to Allen, lies being told, disguises worn (literally, it seemed) and a sense of self wrapped up in the cause he fight for.

Allen saw an utter mystery. Deacon's disguises didn't fool him. But most of the time, Allen could see right through to the heart of someone. He didn't see Deacon's heart. Whatever he was hiding, he was good as burying his skeletons as Allen was his.

The duo were so focused on analyzing Deacon, they almost missed him telling them what the OP was.

"The Railroad's only recently been using the Old North Church, before that we had a base underneath a Slocum's Joe."

"Shall we order some donuts?" Curie suggested.

"They're all closed, Curie," Nick answered. "Besides, what's under Slocum's Joe that would make for a good base?" he asked incredulously. Deacon opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Allen.

"A DIA nexus, we called it the Switchboard."

Deacon glanced at Allen.

"So the rumors are true, you really are a Pre-war relic."

"That's me." Allen replied. "So, I'm assuming we're going to be using the escape tunnel as an entrance."

"I know, ironic isn't it?" Deacon joked.

"What I'm failing to understand is why we're going back. The location's been made, we can't reclaim it."

"I'll explain when we get there, I know it's a bum deal but it's safer this way."

"No big deal, Deacon," Allen dismissed, much to Nick's surprise, "It's operational security. The CIA was big on that kind of thing too."

"I do not understand." Curie stated.

"Neither do I, Curie." Sure, Nick understood in theory, but he was more or less trying to be nice.

"We're here to retrieve a prototype stealth boy that Carington developed." Deacon explained.

"So, what's our first step?" Nick asked.

"First we have to override the security lockdown," Deacon replied, "There's a terminal right over…" Deacon trailed off. Allen had gently pushed them aside and stepped up to the terminal.

"It's locked." Allen mumbled to himself.

"I have the password." Deacon said holding up a piece of paper. Allen just grunted in response.

Allen mumbled to himself. "It's a good encryption."

"Allen, he has the password." Nick said, holding back laughter.

"…There's always a backdoor."

"Monsieur Marks, I believe Monsieur Deacon has the password."

"Gotcha, you little…" Allen trailed off as he realized everyone was staring at him. "What?"

"I had the password." Deacon laughed, biting back his laughter.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Allen asked, looking more offended than he felt.

"He did." Nick replied

"Well, clearly he wasn't loud enough" Allen said with a melodramatic huff. With that, the floodgates opened, and everyone started laughing, even Curie (Allen didn't even know Miss Nanny's were programed to laugh).

Allen only grumbled. "Sure, sure, let's waste time laughing during the suicide mission."

* * *

So far, 'suicide mission' would be the last term Allen would assign this OP. His and Deacon's respective crack shots, Nick's quick thinking, and Curie's (so far) unnecessary medical expertise, made it a walk in the park. Allen just couldn't take it seriously, much to everyone's surprise.

It wasn't until the main room that Allen sobered up.

"Hey, hold up!" He called as he approached an operational terminal.

"Don't waste your time," Deacon told him, "Not even our tech guy, Tinker Tom, could hack that."

"Not planning on hacking it." Allen said, not having sat down yet.

"You know the password?" Nick asked.

"Short answer, yes."

Allen approached the terminal with something near reverence, as if it were a shrine. There was more to it than that, he was afraid.

"The DIA was in charge of monitoring the nukes," Allen said aloud to no one in particular, yet all three of his companions listened closely. "If anyone knew who fired first, they did." Allen caressed the sides of the terminal. "Do I even want to know? What if it was us? I hoped we were better than that."

Curie made to answer, but Nick and Deacon waved her off.

"But…what, with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, maybe we were the only ones with the hubris…hmm."

Finally, Allen sat before the terminal, entered the password, and went through its files.

Nick watched Allen closely. He saw the emotions in his eyes, the uncertainty, the hope, the fear. Nick finally saw Allen's guard down, maybe Deacon and Curie saw something different, but Nick saw a man still clinging to something. Finally, Allen looked up.

"The files are corrupted," he said forlornly, "If they ever knew, it's gone now." Allen nodded, mostly to himself. "Probably for the best."

Finally, after weeks of hearing about Allen's good deeds, of seeing first hand that Allen was a good man when it counted, Nick was finally convinced. That bad gut feeling he once had about the man was finally gone.

They eventually got into the vault Deacon said held the prototype, but before they could look for it, Deacon was sidetracked by a corpse.

"So, Tommy Whispers didn't make it out. Call me a fool, but I had hope." Deacon rested his hand on Tommy's forehead, "He died protecting our secrets,"

"Rest now, noble warrior." Curie said.

"Thanks, Curie." Deacon picked up a gun that had been resting near Tommy and handed it to Allen. "Tommy would want you to have this."

"Thank you," Allen said with a nod. On the outside, he was solemn and respectful. On the inside, he was geeking out. "It's a Makarov! Say what you will, the Russians made great goddamn guns! A goddamn Makarov!" he would wait until he was an appropriate distance away from everyone, and then have his moment openly about this gun.

"Come on," Deacon said, "Let's grab the prototype. Desdemona is sure to let you in now."

* * *

Or not.

"Deacon, I'm not sure about bringing him into the HQ immediately." Desdemona said.

"Look, he led us through the switchboard. He may be modest but he really did do all the heavy lifting."

"Look," Allen interrupted. "Don't make a decision now. Hell, don't even make one tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" Desdemona asked.

"Like Deacon said earlier, I'm the General of the Minutemen," Allen explained. "I can't just up and leave my post. I've got commitments to fulfil."

"The Railroad isn't part time," Desdemona lectured, "I can't have your priorities split."

"I agree," Allen said simply. "So give me a month, let me take care of some things. Then I can devote myself fully to the Railroad…if you'll have me of course."

"We can do that," Deacon said, leadingly, "Right, Des?"

"Fine," Allen said before turning to go. "I'll be back in thirty days," he called back with a wave.

First things first, breaking the news to Preston. That was going to be rough.


	8. Leaving the Post

Allen was singing again.

"In Mullingar last night I rested limbs so weary -"

Nick and Piper were waiting with Allen for the Minutemen lieutenants.

"Started by daylight, next morning bright and early -"

Piper was trying to read the room, mostly since Nick was treating Allen differently and she wanted to figure out why.

"Took a drop of the pure to keep my heart from sinking -"

The detective didn't even seem annoyed that Allen was singing.

"That's the Paddy's cure when she's on the drinking, see the lassies smile, laughing all the while."

Piper couldn't do it. She decided to interrupt.

"You know, if you like music so much you could always turn on the radio."

Allen paused mid verse. Casually, he said, "You know, I don't actually like music all that much."

"How can you not like music?" Nick asked, equally at ease. Allen shrugged and scratched the back of his head.

"No clue."

"I think we're missing the important question here," Piper said, perking up. "If you don't like music, why do you sing?"

"A trick my old man taught me." Allen answered, sitting down and starting to fiddle with his pipboy.

"And that trick was?" Piper prodded, despite feeling as though it would be a pointless exercise.

"Pops owned a restaurant," Allen explained, surprising the reporter, "Every now and again, I'd work there to pick up some extra cash, and every now and again shit got busy."

"Waiting for this to relate to singing," Nick joked with a half-smile.

"Well, he taught me that in those situations, the most important thing was to stay calm and focus, and that the best way to do that was to pick up a habit."

"A habit?" Piper asked, finally having recovered from her shock at actually getting something personal out of the man.

"Yeah, something that you do to calm yourself down. Pops snapped. At first he snapped as a way of thinking about something other than whatever was making him panic, then eventually snapping made him not panic."

"Okay," Piper said, trying to follow along, "But why do you sing?"

"Like I told Danse, my squad used to sing these shanties when in transit," Allen explained, seemingly having found what he was looking for, as classical music started to pour gently from his Pipboy.

"Wait," Nick suddenly interjected. "You said he did it to calm down."

"Yes," Allen said, confused.

"Something stressing you out?" Nick asked.

"Well I've got all these plans about throwing my lot in with the Railroad." Allen motioned around the room. "But…look at all this shit. I'm the General of the Minutemen," Allen suddenly gestured to his Pipboy, "And look at this shit." He brought up a list. "Different jobs and obligations I've left hanging - find green paint for Abbot, clear Boston public library of super mutants, find out if the Cabot house is what I think it is. To name a few."

"Seems like you've got a bit of a full ledger to be joining the Railroad," Nick observed.

"Eh," Allen shrugged, "I've got a month to clear out as much of this as I can."

"Is a month long enough?" Piper asked, concerned that Allen might fall back into old habits.

"Could be," Allen stood up and stretched, "Guess we're going to have to find out."

To say that the mood was somber would be an understatement.

"So I've got good news and bad news." Allen started. His lieutenants listened dutifully. Piper and Nick had left the room before the meeting; they were polite like that.

"Good news first." Sam interrupted.

"Sam!" Nancy snapped.

"It numbs the pain." Sam said overly dramatically.

Montgomery hissed, "Don't interrupt."

"The good news," Allen said, cutting everyone off, "Is that I've found a way of taking the fight to the Institute without involving the Brotherhood."

"Does this mean we're starting an offensive?" Nancy asked. "Because I've done a lot of thinking and that's starting to seem like a bad idea."

"No," Allen answered.

"What's the bad news?" Montgomery asked, trying to stay on point.

"It's going to require me being away from my post for the foreseeable future." The lieutenants all reacted differently. Sam snapped his head up and squinted, almost as if his eyes were what heard Allen and he needed visual proof of what had been said. A look of pure dejection crossed Nancy's face, and Montgomery was emotionless. Preston was the only one to actually say anything.

"General, what!?" He probably would have said more, but he seemed to cut himself off. He likely didn't have the words.

"For security purposes I can't tell anyone anything." Allen continued, "I don't plan on abandoning the Minutemen, but the next step is up to you four."

"What step is that, sir?" Montgomery asked.

"Either I step down as general permanently, or just assign one of you as acting general."

"All in favor of the second one?" Montgomery requested, skipping to the likely verdict.

Four hands were raised.

"So who's it going to be, General?" Nancy asked, trying to be professional.

Allen had planned for this. In fact, there were very few things Allen hadn't planned on. He had a contingency plan for most series of events.

"Lieutenant Richard Montgomery?" Allen addressed.

"Yes sir," Montgomery said standing at attention.

"Do you accept the role as acting General?"

"Yes sir."

"Thank you." Montgomery tilted his head at that, but didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally, his first order was a simple, "Meeting adjourned."

Everyone was leaving but Allen grabbed Preston's shoulder, stopping him cold.

"We should talk."

* * *

Allen and Preston were pacing the lengths of the ramparts. It seemed like every other important conversation happened there.

They hadn't said a word to each other for minutes.

"I'm sorry." Allen suddenly said.

"What for?" Preston asked sarcastically. "For abandoning the Minutemen when we need you most?"

"I'm not abandoning anyone." Allen defended.

"You're off to god knows where and leaving an acting general in your absence. Being a general isn't something you can do from a distance."

"Preston," Allen started, dejected.

"What, General, what is it?" Preston snapped.

Suddenly, Allen snapped too.

"I never wanted this!" Allen practically shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "I was in the Commonwealth for maybe a day and half. I was lost, alone, with barely enough ammo to kill a radroach."

He started to pace. "Then I found you, someone as desperate as I was, and I thought, 'I'm saved.' A Minuteman, a lawman, someone who can help. Turns out you were as fucked as I was."

"So why'd you help?" Preston demanded, "Why did you help if you were so disappointed?"

"I don't know," Allen replied honestly, "Instinct, nature, maybe I thought that people with fucked up situations should stick together."

"So what now? You've made better friends so you're just going to walk away?"

"Never." Allen said, so vehemently it gave Preston pause. "Never, not with the Minutemen." His voice softened, "Look Preston, maybe my motives have never been the best but know this - all I've ever done was to help. I may be a selfish bastard for wanting Shaun back more than helping the Minutemen," Preston flinched at that, "But I would never betray my people, never abandon something like this."

Preston sighed, and nodded. "I believe you."

"Really?" Allen asked, so obviously confused it almost made Preston laugh.

"You gave us back the Castle, the artillery, and unified much of the Commonwealth. If you're saying this path of yours is what's best." Preston shrugged. "Who am I to argue?"

"The best damn man the Minutemen have to offer." Allen said, extending his hand.

"Thanks, General." Preston said, shaking Allen's hand.

Life was simple to Preston. Lives needed saving, Raiders needed killing, Minutemen needed rebuilding…even without the General leading the charge.

Life was simple, but not necessarily easy.

* * *

Allen was leaving the Castle, with Nick and Piper in tow, when Sam approached him.

"Hey, General!" He called, jogging a little to catch up.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Got a Geiger counter?" Sam asked. Most people would see a casual request, but Allen noticed an air of severity.

"Got one in my Pipboy" Allen said raising his arm. "But none to spare, why?"

"Got a job with the boys that takes us a near an irradiated area," Sam explained, "I'm trying to find out if I need hazmat suits or RadX."

"Go with the suits," Allen recommended. "If something delays you then at least the suits won't wear off."

"Thanks, boss." Sam said before taking off.

"Do they usually come to you with requests like that?" Piper asked.

"Usually they go to Shaw for requisitions," Allen explained. "But for more expensive things they need clearance from on high."

"Shouldn't he have gone to Montgomery then?"

"I'm still a General, just one from far away."

Allen did have to admit though, Sam had seemed weirdly invested in that Geiger counter.


End file.
